Kells
by Bullshifters
Summary: Kelly's perception on the world, boys and narks. May continue, possible Nathan/Kelly in later chapters. Contains swearing


**Just a stream of thoughts from Kelly's head. Might continue xD**

**Reviewwww pleasee :D**

* * *

><p>There are three things you need to know about me.<p>

_I am not a slag._

_I am NOT a chav_

_I have been in 'love' three times._

And I'm talking about the pop-tarts after Chinese dinner while watching Big Brother, (even though he hates it), and a warm fuzzy feeling when cuddling him, instead of raw cold sex that dies the following morning with a note on the pillow beside you, telling you that you looked prettier in the dark.

And let me tell you mate, if it happens once to you, it can happen anytime. The first time I was 'in love' with someone, was when I was 12. He was a fella from around the block, and he was already a lady's man. He had had many girlfriends, and had been drunk on several occasions (it was not done to be still a drink virgin at age 14 around my estate, because it's sorta like… a ceremony of coming of age so some other religious shit like that. Though Jesus wasn't really that popular when I was growing up, because he sounded like a proper nark)…

He was well nice, even though he often cheated on girls. I wasn't usually picked to be a girlfriend because I wasn't pretty like all my other friends. So with multiple cigarettes hanging from our lips, we all lined up, opposite another line of prepubescent boys, their trousers falling down and their 'hard' haircut.

After a couple of days of going out and meeting (kissing like the French do), I was convinced we were going to get married. Of course he found another slutfuck with longer nails, nicer clothes than me (my mam refused to buy me one of those leopard skin body suits from Marks and Sparks, because she said it looked rubbish quality.), bleached blond hair, bigger hoop earrings than me and a lot more make up, dark rings around her eyes and fluorescent orange skin.

And that was the picture of perfection for boys, so I sat on my porch crying in my stubby trainers and grey loose tracksuit crying my eyes out when he fucked off with her. So I ate some Wotsits and got on with it, because I decided from that day on, I wasn't going to let anyone step on me again. I rolled up my sleeves and grimaced, eyes narrowing and glared at the twelve year old boy in front of me later that week.

'Do you think you can fuck with me mate?' And with that I knocked him out. I still feel proud that old scumbag 10-Teeth Darren was still knocking around the block. All the kids there that day grabbed the rest of his teeth, that were scattered on the ground, so the nickname began and a new craze of kids on the block wearing Darren's teeth around their neck started too. It was almost as popular as them Pokemon cards.

Lee was my second, and who I was most convinced it was going to work out for. We had been together since I was 17, met at a house party on the estate (right next to the community centre actually). I was nervous about getting a new boyfriend, as I had had a couple of false starts during my teenage years… (They shagged and left).

And I had gotten a bit of a reputation for being a slag. And when I went into London to go for a shop with my ma or with… um. (Teenage years were not good for me, I hadn't really any friends), people would whisper when they heard me speak.

I'm not a chav.

I'm NOT a chav.

They were all just posh and plummy and it made me angry (my relationship with my fists became more familiar and I was always in fistfights ).

Anyways, Lee was something special. He was dead nice, well fit and he seemed to like me a lot. He had a couple of mates, and we just met and shagged (though I really tried not to this time) but instead of leaving, he stayed. Since that day though, I haven't had sex with him, because he's not that great in bed, and also I don't want to look like a proper slut. That's why we broke off our engagement.

And I thought he was something special, always going to Wooley's with me to get shit, always tagging along to little naff things I wanted to go to, always letting me hold the tv remote. And he gave me Keith, and I love him so much.

So when it was over, I turned to Keith for comfort. And he was all right, but mainly he just licked his bollix.

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me if I should write more, tanx x) xx<strong>


End file.
